EWN-LOG STAIRCASE leads
from field to home. Here
Tanjong and his son descend a
slope after a day of gathering rice.
For the moment, these tribal
people remain isolated, under a
national policy that restricts visitors
in the strategic border area and
forbids outsiders, even Bengalis,
from acquiring land there. But
the hills are rich in lumber and
hydroelectric potential. Someday
more roads will come, and schools,
hospitals, dams, and factories.
What, I wonder, will become of
the so-called primitives? What
aspects of Western culture will
the Mrus adopt, and what will they
keep of their present ways? One
day, perhaps, I will know. I
remember their last words to me,
the alien they befriended: "You will
have to come back. We want you to
live with us."
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